Out of the Shadows
by Marlwolf
Summary: High above the Nine Kingdoms a Raven flies free once more. Her destiny is clear and she must fight for her dream. But along her journey others find that she is a key to their past, and their future.
1. Ravensong

OUT OF THE SHADOWS  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the 10th Kingdom or any of the places or characters associated with the book or series. However, any character not directly associated is of my own creation, so please do not use them without my permission.  
  
Prologue  
  
All alone, the black wolf brooded on many thoughts already considered several times during her long incarceration.  
  
Slime dripped down the walls into small green pools, its patterns burnt inexorably into her mind. Silence reigned over all, but for the occasional clumping of a guard's booted feet or the raving of a prisoner driven insane by years of solitary confinement. This was the world in which the black wolf had lived for uncountable days. The harshest prison in all the Nine Kingdoms. Those who knew of its existence trembled at its name: Ramsbard.  
  
She perched on the single thin wooden bench, both her bed and her seat, brooding, turning everything over in her mind. She waited. Not long now.  
  
Dim light filtered in through the single slit of a window. At night she could only see but a few stars when the night was clear. She could never see the moon, and could hardly tell what season it was. Some life. Refraining from the mad, urgent desire to pace her cell, to relieve the boredom, knowing what she would find. Four paces no matter which direction she took. Always four paces.  
  
She was no longer an attractive wolf, although she had been once; the pitch black fur that covered her entire body was riddled with scars and blemishes, the most notable being the one in the perfect shape of a ram's head. It had been burned into the living flesh on her shoulder on the day of her arrival. Her back was uneven with proud flesh, the welts of innumerable whippings with a metal-tipped rod. Her claws were long and unworn and a solitary fang jutted over her bottom jaw. A single, baleful, amber eye glared at the blank, green, stone wall. The other had been closed permanently as punishment for unruly behaviour and incitement to rebellion. They had threatened to take her tail. They would pay for that.  
  
Not long now.  
  
The cruelty of the guards was renowned throughout the underworld of the Kingdoms. Few of even the most hardened criminals talked of it openly for fear that invoking its name would bring down some of its curse upon them. Vicious lashings and indiscriminate torture were commonplace. They were easy to bear. Mutilations like that which had been inflicted upon the black wolf were not exceptional. The worst punishment was that which was carried out every single day on every single prisoner. Solitary confinement. No talking or communicating was allowed, ever. Nor were visits from outside. Once inside Ramsbard you were dead to all but the guards. To go to Ramsbard meant life. The few who escaped faced constant fear of being recaptured. They became gibbering wrecks who always had to look over their shoulder to avoid being sent back to the living death that had only one name: Ramsbard.  
  
Only the most dangerous and incapable of reformation, or those who had run afoul of vindictive royalty, were sent to that death-hole. Those who no one cared about. Ramsbard was a secret place deep in the forests of the Second Kingdom, made all the more inaccessible by being situated on a small island in the middle of a very large lake. No news or information ever reached there. The royalty of all the Nine Kingdoms knew of its existence and some from each Kingdom were inmates; trolls, fairies, sprites, goblins, elves, dwarves, satyrs, men, fauns, and the black wolf.  
  
She could hardly recall the outside world now, but it was the memory of who she was and what her parents were that kept her alive, kept the tiny spark of hope alight.  
  
The signal!  
  
A raven dropped from the skies, right in front of her slit window, uttering a harsh call-to-arms for all the convicts.  
  
In answer to the raven's call, the black wolf started pounding on the door of her cell in time with the baying out of a wild, intimidating chant, 'Haarooh, haarooh, haarooh, haarooh...!'  
  
The rhythm was taken up by the prisoners in the cells, one by one they joined in like a chain of beacons along the coast, until it resounded like thunder through the stone walls of the prison.  
  
Just as quickly as the chant had been taken up, it was slowly dying away like a flame being doused by a single, powerful jet of water. The reason soon became obvious. The heavy clumping of a pair of metal-toed boots was pounding wrathfully along the corridor. As they passed each cell the cry died from within, but eyes came to every spyhole to see what would happen.  
  
Soon, only one voice carried on, the last tiny flame in a darkened sea – the black wolfs'. The iron-shod guard halted outside her door, while she continued to pound it from within. 'Quiet in there!'  
  
This just served to make the wolf louder; her whole body sounded like it was being flung against the portal, just to make a point. Sneering coldly, the prison guard took out a mass of keys and unlocked the doorway. He was no match for one half-starved, crazy wolf – that had already been proved before.  
  
As soon as she heard the key turn in the lock, the black wolf stood to the hinge side of the entrance. She watched impassively as the shaven brute head of the guard thrust itself into her already cramped cell. 'I tol' you before. One more act like this and I'd take yer tail. Think I was jokin', did yer? I've never 'eard a wolf scream like you did when we took yer eye. Fair gladdened me 'eart it did. Let's 'ear you scream again fer me, pretty one...'  
  
The bear-like guard lunged to grab the skinny form of the black wolf, but he misjudged by far the natural agility and speed she had, despite years of incarceration. She dodged him nimbly and tripped him in the same movement, sending him sprawling across the wooden bench.  
  
Only when, panicked, he found himself pinned to the ground with the wolf sitting on his back, did he realise his mistake at not obeying one of the most fundamental prison rules – never confront prisoners alone.  
  
He turned his flabby face to look at the convict, and he trembled at what he saw – a single eye seemed ablaze with hatred and the weapons of slaughter for which she had been found guilty of using clearly drawn out, and they weren't there for show. This was not one of the most dangerous prisoners in the kingdoms for nothing.  
  
Her face was brought right up to his quivering jowls and her voice hissed between bared fangs, 'I won't scream for you, scum, no, this time you'll scream for me.'  
  
The guard fought for breath and words escaped his deathly pale face, 'Please... mercy... spare me...'  
  
The wolf laughed in his face, 'You tortured me, threatened me, starved me and never once did I sink so low as to beg for mercy. No, wolves and men are so much different. We have pride. You are a coward who cannot face the thought of his own torture. You know what happens to cowards in old tales, don't you?'  
  
The guard's head shook with both fear and bewilderment. A faint smile twitched at the corners of the wolfs' mouth. 'Of course you do. A coward always meets an untimely end. I would love to prolong this moment but unfortunately I have other business to attend to. Goodbye.'  
  
The guard emitted a final gurgling scream as the wolfs' razor-sharp fangs ripped through his soft, baggy throat. She paid no heed to him as he convulsed his last on the slime-ridden floor in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood. Snatching up the keys from his prostrate form, she walked out through the door and started unlocking all the cells. All types of prisoner breathed their first zephyr of freedom. 'Don't get over-excited yet, brothers. We have only cleared the first hurdle, the rest is yet to come.'  
  
A congregation was made in one of the corridors. All the escaped prisoners were present. A troll lifted the black wolf onto his shoulders so she could be both seen and heard.  
  
'My brothers, we have cleared a mighty obstacle, but many remain in our path to freedom. If we get out, we must not go back where we can be found – that means to families or friends. There will be a mighty hunt, if you are caught you say to no one about the whereabouts of any others. I will personally kill any who do. You know what is at risk now – your very freedom. We who are dubbed the most dangerous in all the Nine Kingdoms!'  
  
A great cheer erupted; there were more than a few who were proud of their reputation. The wolf noted as she looked at the enraptured faces that not only was she the only wolf in the prison, but she was the only female. She took it as a compliment.  
  
'Today we are having a party, to which I think it would be churlish not to invite our kind hosts who have kept us long beyond our bedtime, and we were too polite to refuse their hospitality! So let them join the fun – to death or freedom. I will not rot in that cell any longer!'  
  
Cheers and roars of approval followed the lean wolf as she ran to the bottom of a flight of stairs where a weighty bell was hung. Ringing it with all her might, the black wolf called the guests of honour to her freedom celebration.  
  
Guards poured down stone stairways at the ringing of the alarm bell and were met with the fierce onslaught of prisoners who fought with the ferocity of years of pent up aggression and hatred. The inmates surrounded the guards and battled with makeshift weapons purloined from their cells and the corridors. Chains and spars of wood were much in evidence along with rarer weapons such as knives made from discarded plates and belts made into nooses.  
  
Bodies piled up along the wall, guards and prisoners alike, but the battle was won. A mighty roar went up from the survivors at their hard- fought freedom.  
  
Kitchens and barracks were raided and any food or anything of use was taken. Boxes of the things, which had been taken away from them at their arrival, were taken back. Delighted yells and shouts of rage at missing or stolen items mingled with the songs of others.  
  
Armed with a lit torch and pails of vegetable oil, the black wolf and the troll who had lifted her soaked anything flammable with the oil and set light to it with shouts of 'Burn! Follow us or burn with it!'  
  
The black wolf led the way to the main gate and threw the doors open wide trailed by smoke, flames and the escaped convicts.  
  
'Go! Go, my brothers, find your freedom!'  
  
Roars of happiness and oaths of friendship went past the wolf as she watched them leave in boats.  
  
Wanting to walk around the prison one last time, she came upon a thin, frail-looking man crouched in the shadows of the wall. She sat beside him.  
  
'You alright, mate?'  
  
The man looked at her with frightened grey eyes. He'd been there longer than any of them and didn't know if he could survive in the outside world. The prison had become his world, his home, such as it was, and the prospect of the outside world away from the routine of keys and guards was terrifying to the old man.  
  
Pity for the old man penetrated the black wolfs' hardened heart and she laid a flea-ridden paw on his hand, her single eye full of concern.  
  
'I know, strange isn't it? We've wanted this for so long yet when we finally get it suddenly the thought of freedom is overwhelming. You can travel with me if you want. Think of it, a life in the forests, fresh meat, birdsong...'  
  
'I can't.'  
  
The man was trembling beneath her touch. She tried to steady him with her presence, but it didn't work. She sighed heavily.  
  
'I can't leave you here alone now, can I?'  
  
The light of an idea was suddenly bright in the old mans eyes. 'You'll do it for me, won't you, lass? I can't leave and I can't stay. You'll give me my freedom, won't you?'  
  
The black wolf looked into those old eyes and knew what he was asking. She nodded with a reassuring smile. Yes, if that was what he wanted she'd give him his eternal freedom. A last mercy.  
  
The black wolf emerged from the shadows where she'd left the slumped body of the old man against the wall. She shook her loose fur, enjoying the sunlight. A raven settled on her thin shoulder. She stroked his head affectionately.  
  
'Thank you, Rab. Without you we'd never have done it.'  
  
The raven cocked its head and looked at her questioningly with one of its intelligent eyes.  
  
'You're right, mate, I can't hang about here any longer. Come on, let's go home!'  
  
The raven took to the air as the wolf dived into the lake, washing away years of grime and filth and the latest addition of fresh blood that left a crimson trail behind her.  
  
Panting as she reached the bank, she hauled herself onto its firm surface and lay there until she regained her breath. The raven perched above her, keeping a firm lookout. She needed to make a fair distance from the prison before she rested. With this thought in mind she struggled to her feet and set off through the trees.  
  
Raven, daughter of Luna and Tamarisk, was back on the loose. 


	2. Seeking Shadows

_Hi guys, sorry it's taken so long, but finally got another chapter up! I don't have a great deal of time to write any more, which is a shame, so my updates will be sporadic at best. But bear with me, I will get there!_

Dawn was just breaking over the calm expanse of Dragon Mountain, the bases of deep clouds beginning to glisten with the first light as the stars faded away. Only the brightest clung to their hallowed places in the heavens before they were burnt away by the autumn days' new birth. The great skull guarding the entrance to the Dwarf Mines was turned a rosy pink in the new light, a ghostly echo of what colour he had been in life.

Few remembered the tale of Behemoth, his brave last stand to protect his ancient home before he had been ruthlessly cut down. The once proud lord of the Fire Dragons was now but a memory and a monument to the glories and betrayals of the past, forever watching the empty skies for the return of his brethren, his great jaws open in a silent, eternal cry.

But today the skies were not so empty, although they might well have been to the untrained eye. A smooth shade of pinkish purple, he blended in with the morning sky and became almost invisible. Then again he could travel virtually unnoticed anyway.

Diving with the grace and skill of a falcon, he dropped from the sky and pull up just in time to land on the snout of the forlorn skull with a brief fluttering of wings.

Intelligent blue eyes scanned the vista, only the occasional flick of his leathery wings betraying his nervousness at being here alone.

Back at home, in the Eastlands, he was known as 'Sprite' for his size. It had irked him when younger, but didn't bother him much any more. He stretched his long body, warming down the muscles, from refined snout to curving tail and from wingtip to wingtip, before curling up in the curves of his brother's bones for a well-earned rest.

Sprite was a traveller, given much to wandering, as were many of his kin. The Air Dragons were ever a restless breed. But this was the first time he had ever come to the Mountain.

Many would, and have, laughed at Sprite for his size, or lack thereof. Equalling a housecat in stature, he had never thought of his physique as a hindrance. His wings worked as well as any of his larger brethren, sometimes better. His wings were his most distinctive feature, each one double the length of his body nose to tail and the width of his spine, shoulder to hip, in their narrowest part.

If there was ever a word to describe an Air Dragon it was elegance. Everything about their build was elegant and graceful, great horns sweeping in flowing curves from the back of his skull, fine lines running over powerful muscles to the tip of a long smooth tail. There was not a jagged or rough line anywhere about their body, and this was highlighted by the sense of peace and wellbeing that radiated from them. Of them all it was the Air Dragons that were the peacekeepers and healers, having no power such as the Ice and Fire Dragons did to use their element for destruction. The lord of the Air Dragons, Daeconduras, was hailed as being the wisest being in all the Nine Kingdoms by all who knew him.

Sprite's scaly chest moved up and down with the rapidity of his breathing. Even in sleep everything about the tiny dragon was quick and alert. He could go places where his larger brothers could not, for the fear that dragons still raised in people. But even he would not have come to this haunted place were it not for orders from Daeconduras himself. His mission was clear – he had to find the Shadow.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was twilight, shadows lengthening in the late autumn forest and assuming an ominous, threatening quality that would put even the bravest on their guard. Stars were beginning to show in the inky blackness of the sky, but there would be no moon tonight. Everywhere the trees loomed in close to the road, their branches reaching out as if to claim the unwary for their own.

The regular sound of hoofbeats seemed the only noise in the impenetrable night. The road through the forest was well known as a haunt for robbers and highwaymen, so he kept a cocked pistol at his side just in case.

The horse seemed acutely aware of every rustle in the bushes, every breath of wind, and spooked at the slightest movement. It was all the traveller could do to keep it calm and trotting along the road. He had no choice but to follow the road home, it was too far to go back the way he had come, but even he had to admit that the eeriness of the night was getting to him. Things were far too quiet.

The ditch by the road had always been the perfect place for an ambush. It was overgrown and deep enough to move quickly and quietly in without being seen. A narrowly slitted eye watched the progress of the horse up the road with a predatory hunger. To the unwatchful eye it was nothing more than a mere shadow. With the patience born of a thousand unsuccessful hunts, it moved its lithe body inch by painstaking inch until it was in the perfect ambush position and then waited for the prey to come to it.

The traveller began to relax, the still night lulling him into an almost waking sleep. The pistol tipped forwards, its load dropping silently onto the damp road, just another stone in the ground.

The predator saw and understood. They were almost within range now. It battled furiously to control its instincts not to charge before the time was ripe. Just a few more steps, it snarled to itself, just a few more.

The chestnut mare felt the force of the creature's intentions and shied away from the road ahead that it knew was dangerous.

Shaken back into wakefulness by the horse's hesitation the traveller spurred his mount onwards, but it dug in like a mule and refused to go further. The sound of the whip on flesh echoed sharply through the stagnant night, followed by the apprehensive heavy steps as the mare was forced forward. The rolling of her eyes and the chewing of the bit betrayed her anxiety at the dread road.

The fear was catching. If there had been any noise in the unnaturally hushed woodland he would have started at it, but there was none. His hand strayed to the pistol and closed around the reassuring butt like a talisman against the evil in the darkness, his finger curling instinctively into the trigger, praying to the spirits to keep his nerve as the night seemed to close around him.

The spirits obviously weren't listening that night and his courage failed. With a panicked kick and a curse he drove the mare from a gentle walk into a frenzied gallop.

Like a vision from the gates of hell he saw the shadow rise out of the dying ferns to his left, teeth and single eye aglitter with malice and hunger. He tried to turn the horse away from the nightmare that radiated horror and spite, but to no avail. The mare was going to run until she dropped away from the overwhelming innate terror of prey running from predator.

Watching as if from a distance he saw the black shadow leap towards him, fangs bared to kill, a terrible longing in its eye. And suddenly the pistol was in his hand and aimed at the head of the beast and, calm as you like, he fired.

A dread sound reverberated like thunder through the woods. Not the sound of a shot, but of silence. A click but no load launched itself into the skull of the brute and its fierce teeth sank into his shoulder and locked with horrific force as the body swung upwards on the weight of the jaws and claws gripped his clothes and the saddle.

The mare bucked in fright, almost dislodging both from her broad back. With the strength born of desperation the traveller changed his grip on the unloaded pistol and thwacked it as hard as he could into the side of the fiend's head.

The hold on his shoulder loosened slightly as the demon fought the coloured lights that burst painfully in its brain. Heartened, he bludgeoned on with the metal-inlaid butt of the gun until he felt the teeth loosen and the beast fell away, bouncing once on the dirt road before skidding to a halt. He spurred the mare on to greater effort, not that she needed it, to get away before it rose again.

Raven raised her bruised and broken body shakily onto her arms, but they trembled and collapsed beneath her. Spitting her curses with her blood onto the road she watched helpless as another failed hunt disappeared down the road.

But then something happened. A body slumped lifelessly from the saddle, one of its feet caught in the stirrups, and bounced along the rocky highway, a feathered shaft standing like a mast from his throat.

Shadows emerged from the silent trees ahead. One of them caught the mare's reins swung into the saddle, calming her to a standstill. Others cut the body from the harness and looted what belongings were on it before hauling it into the ditch.

Whispers and the sounds of feet approaching upon the road made Raven snarl in anger. Two men with dark hair and coarse stubble stared down as she tried to haul her battered body off the road. One cut off her escape route and turned her head with a walking stick. She seized it in her jaws, but this was obviously what the men wanted as the jumped upon her and bound her muzzle tight with a belt.

She struggled against the restraint but, with an experienced tap on the side of her head, one of them rendered her unconscious. He lifted her onto his shoulders and carried her away, the rest of the gypsy folk following with the horse and all that was left of the traveller's possessions.


	3. Eastwards

_Sorry this has taken so long. I've had severe writer's block of late and it wasn't until listening to some music that I got back on track. For those interested, the song "Moon Shadow" by Kate Rusby influenced this chapter._

'My sister is dying.'

Silence fell in the stony chamber. Eyes old and young turned from their texts towards the hunched body of the speaker.

Bent and frail with age, he lay almost inert on a moss-covered ledge of rock in the great library. His own great wings lay stiff and nigh on useless across his back and his colour, once all the glory of the dawning sky, was now grey and faded. But worse were his eyes. Set thoughtfully deep into his elegant head, twin magnificent sapphires were now clouded and hidden beneath rheumy lids.

This was Daeconduras, Father-Older-Than-Years, Lord of the Air Dragons. And it seemed he was coming to his end.

A sigh shuddered through his ancient jaws and broken teeth.

'I am tired, Soshani. Take me to my chambers, daughter. I wish to rest alone.'

A youngish dragon, scaled entirely in midnight blue, gently helped her Lord to his trembling feet and led him respectfully back to his private chambers, deep within their mountainous home and made him comfortable, wrapping his quaking body in blankets and placing a sheepskin beneath his fragile head. He waved her away, but even as she left she heard Daeconduras begin to weep.

The departure of the Lord and his aide prompted an immediate outburst of chatter and speculation.

As aloof and ancient as dragons may seem, they are still as given to gossip and rumour as most.

But it was still true enough that age had all of a sudden caught up with Daeconduras, and cruelly so. Older than even the eldest of the rest, many found the thought that he, who they all called Father, who had been one of the first faces they had all seen when they hatched, had a sister, curious. Who was she? Where was she? Was she as ancient and peerless as he?

Study was forgotten in the great library, texts placed back on shelves, as all discussed theories and notions.

Amongst all the uproar a massive shining presence disappeared unseen from the great stone hall. His four claws padded thoughtfully over the heather-strewn walkways towards the balconies that stood at various cracks and openings on the mountainside. His great body shimmered like oil on water beneath the full moon light.

His already careful steps became quieter and gentler as he realised that another dragon rested her forearms against the stony railing.

Moonlight glinted like stars on the edges of her scales, turning her whole body into a mirror image of the clear night overhead. Her long, curved horns, normally a dull grey, glittered like they were covered in diamond dust.

Moon-Shadow she was truly named, revealed in all her true glory only by the light of the exalted moon.

'Am I that fascinating that you must watch me in secret, Storm-Chaser?'

She didn't even turn her head to watch as Raisho, massive, rainbow-hued dragon of the turbulent skies, stepped forward into the full light where his shining skin seemed bland and lacklustre compared to her radiant scales. He towered head and shoulders above her, despite standing on four feet whilst she stood on two. He sat down on his haunches, his tail curving over his long claws.

'Excuse me, Soshani, I did not mean to intrude. I simply did not wish to disturb you whilst you seemed so deep in thought.'

The moonlit dragon sighed heavily, and the whole mountain seemed to sigh with her. Deep in the earth something shuddered.

'I do not deny I am worried, brother. Death casts a deep shadow in our Lord's eyes now. He fades so quickly. What will we do without him?'

'We will grieve, and then we will survive. Nothing lasts forever, not even Daeconduras.'

'"We will survive…" Hmmm…' Soshani's whole body dimmed until she seemed as nothing but shadow as the moon was briefly hidden by scudding cloud. Suddenly her opalescent eyes flared with white light.

'But will we, Raisho? There seems something so eternal and stable about Father that I wonder if the world can survive without him, let alone us.'

Riasho shook his massive horned head solemnly, 'That's just fatalism, Soshani, it won't help anyone. When… he goes, we'll cope. We'll survive. We'll live. I promise.'

The midnight dragon snorted disbelievingly down her long nostrils, 'That promise is not yours to make. I'm sorry, Raisho. I just hope Sprite gets back soon. Daeconduras wants to see the Shadow before he leaves. He and that family go back a long way, you know.'

Soshani spread her white-edged wings and leapt off the sheer cliff, gliding away into the night to join the other shadows that wheeled and dived against the bright night backdrop.

Raisho reclined his huge bulk on the ledge and thought over what she'd said, and the happenings of not many years ago when chance had seen him having a personal involvement in saving the line of Shadows.

Times changed and were still changing. Perhaps, in some ways, Soshani was right. Without Daeconduras perhaps the world wouldn't survive. At least not the way it was.


	4. Shadowson

Raven snarled in pain and bit down hard upon the hard leather strap in her mouth. All she got for her effort was a light slap across the muzzle, but the gypsy men around her still readied themselves for trouble.

Numerous cuts and bite marks lacerated her already scarred body. Jagged, ugly, bloody tears that showed all the characteristics of fierce fighting, and threatened infection.

'Why do you do this to yourself, huh?' the old gypsy woman who was tending her wounds asked none too gently whilst pressing a herbal remedy into a particularly deep bite on her shoulder. Raven hissed as the astringent worked its way deep into her exposed flesh to purge any poison.

'For them?' the woman glared at the men who had settled down again now they realised nothing was going to come of the exchange and continued counting out their profits. She took hold of the wolf's muzzle and turned it until they were eye to eye, 'Or are you just so angry and everything and everyone that you're not happy unless you're destroying someone else's life?'

Raven tore her face out of the older woman's surprisingly strong grip and spat out the bite-strap, glaring at the large black bird that cackled its agreement.

'You can shut up for a start,' she snarled.

The truth hurt. After that fateful moonless night on the forest road the gypsies had taken her back to their camp and healed her, giving her the choice to leave or stay once she was on the mend. Initially distrustful, she soon found their company comforting after so long alone.

They were people who judged on merit and usefulness, rather than on past transgressions, no matter how severe. The company of a wanted criminal didn't bother them, her obvious capacity as a hunter and fighter was far more interesting.

The first time they'd ventured the prospect of pit fighting to her she'd been apprehensive, but the rush she'd got the first time allayed any fears she might have had about doing it again. True, she never escaped unscathed, but she always came out in considerably better shape than the poor creature they pitted against her.

'It earns the family money, Mairenni. And it's more reliable than your magic birds.'

Raven whimpered slightly and grimaced as the silver-haired woman put on more pressure than she was sure was necessary onto a raw wound on her back.

'Pah, money. Don't try and fool either of us into believing that's the reason why you fight, Darklis Fire-eye. The sooner you stop this nonsense the better.'

'It wasn't all loss, though, was it?'

Mairenni sighed, 'No. No it wasn't.'

The gypsy witch-healer finished her cleaning, stitching and binding in silence while they both thought about Raven's latest prize. A wolf-child, human in appearance but with undeniable wolf heritage, they'd found him locked in a pen at the last fighting pit. They'd taken him as part payment to save him from Lady knew what terrible fate.

It had been the first softness Mairenni had ever seen in the Raven's eyes when the blood-soaked wolf had embraced the terrified boy and told him that everything was going to be all right.

She could feel his eyes on her now, wary and watchful, yet ultimately concerned. He didn't want to see anyone else hurt like he had been, least of all this black wolf with only one eye that shone like summer sunlight when she looked at him.

"Little Brengy" she called him, her little noble wolf, the first name he can ever remember being given that wasn't in contempt.

Mairenni bit the thread on the last stitch in Raven's torn shoulders. She patted the almost sleeping wolf as she got up and ladled some steaming liquid from a small po over the fire into a wooden cup.

'Drink this, get some food and think on what I've said,' she ordered, pushing the cup into Raven's clawed paw.

While she sipped her drink and plodded lazily to the fire, the dark-haired boy emerged from her hiding place to join her. She placed a comforting paw around his shoulders before scooping out poacher's stew for them both from a constantly bubbling cauldron.

A large black raven perched upon Brengy's shoulder and he chuckled when it started grooming his hair before dipping its heavy beak into his stew.

Mairenni watched with a hint of sadness in her steely eyes. Blessed and cursed with a prophet's sight, she knew such simple happiness couldn't last. And change flew on swift and callous wings.

Two shadows sat on a porcupine mound of burned out torches.

The night overhead was clouded and darkness prevailed over all. Hushed voices whispered to each other, catching up after so long apart. Anyone listening would've recognised the kinship between the two speakers.

'When did he say he'd be here, Drake?'

'Tonight was all he said. Didn't give the hows, whys or wherefores. Didn't really have time, Siri.'

'What do you reckon he wants?'

Even though he couldn't see it, Sirius felt his brother's face fall, 'I think he's looking for Luna.'

The two brothers sat in silence. Neither of them had got over their sister's death, despite nearly seven years having passed. It had pained them helping her five children set the charred bones of their parents into the family tomb and light two torches for them. It made it worse that all five seemed to have disappeared since.

'Greetings.'

At first they couldn't see where the refined voice had come from. Then they noticed a small form perched upon one of the charcoaled spikes, his serpentine tail wrapped around the pole to keep him stable, a small dragon the size of a housecat. It looked down its refined nose at them in a manner that if it were anyone else it would be disdainful, however he merely seemed perplexed.

'Did she have any children?'

'Five.'

'Any idea who she might have named as successor?'

Draco shrugged his furry shoulders, 'She never said. But in my opinion probably Raven?'

Sirius looked at his brother, 'Raven, really?'

Draco remembered Raven of old, a timid creature more wolf than any of her brothers and sisters. Secretive, withdrawn and lonely, a mere shadow on the earth, but with eyes like the midsummer sun. And there'd been shadows born into those as well, seeds of bitterness and hate. Yes, if any, Raven was the Shadow.

'Do you have any idea where he might be now?'

'She. And no. She disappeared with her brother Luath years ago. Miran, Chara and Vega haven't been seen either. The other four may be found anywhere. But Raven, she'll probably be in hiding, if she's still alive. Look in the forests is my best advice. The deeper the better.'

Sprite nodded his thanks and opened his wings. With a rush of air he was gone.

'Do you reckon he'll find her?' Sirius asked.

'I hope so, brother. I hope so.'

'What do you think he wants?'

'I don't know for certain but I have a hunch.'

Sirius' eyes were questioning in the darkness. Draco merely smiled, 'Give it a few months and keep your ears open. Then meet me at the Mountain.'


End file.
